Chapter XXXII:
Caim's Finest
The world was coming to an undeniable end. 2B saw it on every street corner. She sprinted through the decimated pathways as fast as her preset parameters would allow. Buildings collapsed under a barrage of white magic falling from the sky.
Pale beams fired off from behind, slicing through walls just as easily as they bore holes through the bodies of any machine or android foolish enough to offer resistance. Those that attempted to surrender were given an identical fate.
Pod 042 watched helplessly, still wrapped in her arms. Sparks occasionally ejected from the damaged circuitry of what used to be his arm. From 2B's arms, he observed the enemy. As they drew nearer to the city center, resistance intensified.
Machines and androids once fixated on the murder of one another turned their attention to this new, mysterious foe. Even their combined efforts did not so much as give the pale monsters reason to pause. Divided or united, they were culled all the same by this unstoppable force.
A medium biped leaped atop an abandoned vehicle and aimed its left arm. Attached to it was an energy weapon in place of a hand. As the automaton aimed at one of the approaching abominations, a random bolt struck the robot's chest. The machine lifeform, despite its size, collapsed with a gaping hole in its torso. 2B bolted to the top of that same abandoned bus and leaped from the roof.
As they flew through the air, Pod 042 caught sight of another biped locked in a one-on-one confrontation. One of the monsters charged the machine without bothering to draw its wand, intent on slicing its opponent apart with its claws.
The machine fired off a red orb from the weapon on its arm. The orb contacted the creature's body. The beast erupted into a pile of salt-like powder. This minuscule victory was cut tragically short when a stray beam passed through its head, killing it instantly.
"Pod 042 to Unit 2B," the drone exclaimed over the cacophony of screaming and death. "Observation: the unknown hostiles are invulnerable to physical attacks but energy weapons are a critical weakness."
"Who cares right now," she exclaimed in between frantic pants.
2B dared not look behind. She listened for the sound of Accord's footsteps. Together, they ran from the enemies they had no hope of defeating. Anemone led the way several paces ahead, beckoning them down streets and narrow alleyways yet to be swarmed by the ghostly foes.
Anemone briefly looked over her shoulder, curious about what the pod had to say, but like 2B, did not stop. Not for a second.
Before 042 could continue rambling, a skyward roar silenced him. The distinct cry caused 2B to look up mid-sprint. It was different from the invading monsters. Words formed amid the abnormal howls of enraged agony. "Give him back! Give him BAAACK!"
Soaring above the rooftops was a skeletal beast resembling a dragon. Its wingspan alone dwarfed many of the surrounding structures. Burning red eyes radiated from her goat-like skull.
She swooped downward. A single swipe of her wings stirred a stout wind that swept 2B off her feet. She flew through the air and landed flat on her back. She could not bring herself to stand. None of her limbs would cooperate. Errors flashed in her vision. Her visor was torn, revealing one blue eye while the HUD displayed by her blindfold was scrambled beyond recognition.
She listened to the sound of her own breathing. Her head turned slowly to see Pod 042 floating above her. He was still slightly slanted from the wound he endured during the last engagement.
It was all so hopeless.
"I," 2B breathed. "I can't. I can't do anything. They're so many of them. …Too strong."
Accord ran back and grabbed hold of 2B's dress. She attempted to pull the android off the ground but 2B laid limply in place.
Pod 042 stared down at his android. Her exposed left eye looked on with a sort of hopelessness he had never once seen from her before. At that moment, she seemed ready to accept death.
"They see us," screamed Accord. "Get up!"
The commotion drew Anemone's attention. She gulped hard, ran back towards the mass extermination, and lent a hand of her own. Together they dragged 2B along the pavement. Pod 042 floated in place, however, watching them leave.
"Pod," shouted Anemone. "Move, now!"
"Negative…"
"What!?"
A cluster of ghastly monsters advanced on the pod from behind. He whipped around and opened fire. "We are currently surrounded. This support unit will provide a distraction. Evacuate Unit 2B immediately!"
"Pod," 2B exhaled as she was dragged away.
"Give my final regards to Pod 153."
With no time to spare, Accord hoisted 2B forward, throwing her across the pavement simply to clear that much more distance. The slamming of her body against cold concrete snapped 2B out of her state of utter defeat. She stood up on her own and bolted down the road.
The trio sharply turned down a path on their right and cleared far as possible from the main road. Pod 042 was well and truly behind them at that point. Desperate to catch sight of him, 2B slowed and looked back. He was behind a building but she could still see the glow of his turret firing into waves of colorless aberrations.
Winged beasts zipped out into a crossroad and into her view, dragging the small drone with them by their claws. He fought them off momentarily, blasting one of them into a cloud of chalk. Another flew at him. He darted leftward, dodging a swipe from its talons. Unwittingly, 042 traveled directly into the path of another danger.
A white beam was fired off from somewhere up ahead. It shot straight through 042's body. He floated there for a bit. A hole was cleanly torn in what amounted to his rectangular torso. Gradually, he lost a bit of altitude and suddenly exploded in mid-air. Components rained upon the street below, marking his untimely end.
~O~
Amos pulled the trigger yet all he heard was a quiet click. No blast. No launching bullet. Popola advanced on him unabated. She twirled her staff between her fingers. The weapon's arcane red glow left tracers in the air.
He dropped the depleted weapon and sidestepped out of her way. A wave of red orbs was sent flying past him. Her eyes snapped to him. The staff continued to spiral in her slender hands like the rotors of a helicopter. A small orb formed in the crescent hook of her weapon, waiting to be unleashed.
Only one arm was tasked with wielding the staff. Amid combat, Amos noticed her other hand at her side as if guarding it. The stab wound. He ducked his head, narrowly dodging another blast of ruby magic along the way. Popola was, for a fleeting moment, left wide open.
Five salty talons dug into her abdomen. They surrounded the recently repaired wound. Amos squeezed and twisted his arm. Popola shrieked at the top of her lungs. Tears swelled in her eyes. She frantically elbowed him with all her might.
Amos relinquished his grip and stumbled away. Popola charged again, giving him no time to breathe. Giving herself no time to recover. She swung the staff at his legs. Light bent around the tip of the weapon. Gravitational suction exuded from the staff but it was not enough to keep Amos rooted in place. He leaped in the air, evading it. She circled her staff around, driving it through the air with grace. Every sway of her body resembled a dance move retooled for combat.
She was far enough away from 9S and Devola to not have to worry about them being crushed. She swung her staff down upon him and summoned a black hole. Black energy manifested, warping light as it swelled. It immediately started pulling Amos. His feet slowly but surely scraped across the tiled floor.
Rather than try to dodge, Amos stayed put. He blocked the staff with his left forearm. He then raised his right. Amos hit the center of the staff with an open palm. The weapon snapped in two halves. Splinters flew in every direction.
Popola felt her weapon give way. She pulled back and examined the damage. Utterly irreversible.
"…No."
Crimson static discharged from the severed ends of the wooden pole. She had to test it. She dared not try to manifest a void but instead opted to fire a flurry of basic red magic at Amos. She attempted to cast the spell, holding the staff together to go through the needed motions.
No spheres of lethal energy were spawned. Instead, scarlet shapes rippled in the air. A display she had never seen before. They built in intensity and exploded in her face. Popola was sent flying. She landed against a wall on the other side of the lobby and slid to the floor.
Racing footsteps drew Amos' attention away from Popola's charred body. He turned in time to see Devola charging from behind. She ran atop a row of chairs on his left. The soles of her boots planted on the dust-covered tops of the furniture. She leaped off and landed a powerful kick across his jaw. Amos fell flat on his back.
Devola charged for a few steps before backing off. Amos recovered too quickly. He spun his legs around, warding off any further advance. He then bounced off of the ground, landing right back on his feet. Ten salty talons pointed in her direction.
Out of the corner of her eye, Devola spotted movement. 9S circled Amos. Tightly gripping Skald's Song, he slashed the Legionnaire's back. Amos hissed in what looked like genuine pain.
A furious hand darted back and grabbed 9S by the wrist. In a smooth, expertly executed motion, Amos flipped 9S over his back and slammed him to the floor. A wooden chair broke under the android's falling weight.
In the chaos, Devola caught sight of the wound left on Amos' back. A shallow gash that refused to heal. The White Maso touched by 9S's sword glowed a bright shade of orange like the embers of a dying fire.
Amos drew his rifle and aimed it at the back of the boy's head. Before he could pull the trigger, Devola landed another kick. Then another. The rifle was launched from his grip and clattered on the floor.
Disarmed of all but the sword on his back and the grenades strapped to his hips, Amos flung himself at Devola. She expected him to attack like a rabid beast without coordination. When she saw his leg hike into the air and felt his boot plant on her chin, she realized how wrong her assumption was.
Every punch throw thrown her way had a fluidity that resembled water. His body moved with the wrathful flow of tidal waves. An Old World fighting style she had no hope of understanding while in the midst of defending against it.
Fist after fist flowed through the air. Devola diverted them with opened palms and the occasional, well-timed dodge. A steel-toed boot swiped forward and nearly took her off her feet. He dove forward, digging a knee into her gut then twirled himself around and kicked her in the chest. She slammed against a wall and let out a desperate gasp for the air that was just knocked clean out of her.
In the corner of her sight, she spotted Amos' leg flying at her yet again. She grabbed it with both hands, gripping both his shin and knee. She twirled her arms, sending him spiraling away.
He spun back around only for Devola to drive a fist across his cheek. He staggered for but a second. The recovery was just too quick for her to follow up. His entire body suddenly moved. He lifted in the air, spinning himself around. His heel cut through the stuffy air and struck her upside the head. The force of that kick could be felt across the room. Blood and saliva spewed from her lips. She twirled around and collapsed to her knees then fell face-first onto the floor.
With both twins soundly defeated, all that remained was to finish them off. Devola being the closest was naturally the first target. Amos casually strolled up to her twitching form. The Legionnaire slammed his foot into her side for good measure. He then reached down and grabbed a clump of red hair. Amos yanked her head back, exposing her throat. He readied his talons. Suddenly, a sharp pain lit up his forearm.
Amos recoiled away from Devola. He spotted 9S looming over her. Skald's Song sizzled with enchanted heat in his palms. Amos looked to his arm. A deep gash was left behind. A clear sign of 9S's attempt to hack his arm off. An attempt that almost succeeded. He moved his forearm about. The Maso refused to heal but he could still move.
Amos let out a low hiss.
"It's me you're after," 9S exclaimed. He eyed Amos furiously. All regret that once possessed him appeared to have given way to want for retaliation. "Devola and Popola… 153… They had nothing to do with that hunk of rust around your neck. I was the one who hid it from you. I'm the one who used you. Fight me. Let's put each other out of this misery right here and right now."
The rage boiling in Amos briefly subsided. He was almost impressed. His shoulders heaved. He snickered uncontrollably. That distinct hissing. The closest sound his neglected vocal cords could produce to a giggle.
"Nines," Devola whimpered. She reached from her spot on the floor and tugged at his shorts. "He's goin' crazy. We've gotta get outta here. We can't win. Not against him!"
"Shut up! This doesn't concern you anymore. Go tend to your sister. She's hurt. I'll deal with him."
Devola looked over her shoulder. She studied Amos. His hissing laughter echoed across the room. An awful, hysterical hissing that was as manic as it was uncharacteristic of the stoic Legionnaire she had come to mistakenly call "friend."
He pulled the Prince's sword from his back. The onyx blade burst into white flames that clung to the metal like a second layer.
She then turned back to 9S. Skald's Song rattled in his tightening grasp. Bright red runes of an angelic language spawned from the twin emeralds. They hovered over the blade, spreading about the weapon in stark contrast to the overwhelming White Maso that lit Amos' sword ablaze.
Devola picked herself up. "Fine," she relented. "But if you die, I'll never forgive you."
The YoRHa boy waited until she was out of the path of immediate danger. Amos, surprisingly, waited as well.
Finally, he lashed out. He spun himself around. A gush of White Maso burst from his sword following a single pale spark. Colorless embers danced about. 9S swung his own weapon in defense. A stream of red energy blazed around him in a circle. It contacted the enveloping fire of Amos' blade. The two masses exploded in a furious reaction. Beautiful lights arced in all directions.
The flood of white magic dissipated. Amos was incensed to see 9S still standing in place, surrounded by a small, red ring of fire.
"You never did care about any of us, did you," called 9S. "You Legions really are just soulless monsters!"
Had Amos still possessed blood in his empty veins, it would have come to a boil. He let out an ear-splitting, tormented howl. He raised his sword and generated a column of flames that touched the ceiling. He brought it down on 9S, consuming the boy in unrelenting white.
Devola carried her sister outside. Cold rain greeted them without mercy. She ignored the weather and the odd rumbling heard far in the background. She set her twin down against an outcrop of concrete well across the empty lot.
"Ninessh," Popola breathed, slurring her words. Her head was slightly turned. Devola could not get a decent look at her. "Where issh he?"
"Dealing with Amos. He'll… he'll be fine. Now, are ya okay?"
"No. I lossh my staff."
"I don't care about the damn staff! Are you okay!?"
"…It hurtssh. It hurtssh so badly."
Her voice shook. She fought back pained tears with each stammered word uttered.
Devola fidgeted nervously. She saw the wound that she had only just recently repaired. It was bleeding but did not appear fatal. Cuts were left where Amos' claws had been. "What hurts," she desperately asked. "Please show me so I can help."
Popola slowly turned her head. The dark skies made it harder still to see but a well-placed lightning bolt revealed to Devola exactly what the undeniable problem was. She gasped in abject terror at the sight of the wound.
The right half of Popola's face was unharmed. Perfectly symmetrically with the same beauty she always had. The left half, however, was marred with burns. The skin of her cheek and around her eye was melted and semi-boiled. Parts of her flesh loosely drooped, exposing the bare metal of her cheekbone. A portion of her once flawlessly cut red hair was burned away. The lids of her eye were sealed shut. Fused together by the heat generated from her staff upon its explosion.
Were it not her twin. Were Devola not already so familiar with her other half, Popola would be unrecognizable. Devola's eyes watered at the grievous sight. She knew full well that there was no repairing a wound like this.
"Popola… Oh no!"
"What," she slurred. Her ability to speak clearly with that eloquent voice of hers was impeded by the left corner of her lips which were infused together. "Issh it bad?"
Devola visibly shook. She covered her mouth beneath a shaky palm.
"I can barely sshee you, Sshisshter."
She visibly attempted to open her injured eye. It remained forever closed.
Devola could not hold it back any longer. She screamed in a cacophony of sorrow and horror.
A cry that died beneath a tropical downpour that was never going to end.
The infernal duel carried on without an end in sight. Floods of white energy blazed away while 9S was perpetually locked in a defensive struggle. Skald's Song yielded itself well to forming shields to slice through what would otherwise be an unsurvivable onslaught. Without those barriers of Red Maso along with the foresight to angle and time them properly, 9S would have already burned to a crisp.
Amos swung his sword around and around. A pale fire whirl spawned from the motion and was sent directly 9S's way. He swirled his sword. Another ring of scarlet surrounded him but his reaction was a bit late.
The pale fire whirl consumed his left arm, searing it instantly. The force threatened to suck him into the center of the blaze. 9S stepped away, desperately pulling himself from the infernal core of the enchanted tornado. Ultimately, he was picked up and flung through a wall of wooden planks. They broke under his weight. The boarded-up entrance shattered into charred splinters and small pieces of razor-sharp glass that dug into his skin.
Smiling with wicked intent, Amos swiftly followed up. 9S had just enough time to pick himself up off the pile of glass to see a spark of white light. A column of fire erupted from within the hospital. He ducked behind the nearest wall as the flames shot out like a volcanic eruption.
He felt no proper heat from the flames, however, physical contact proved to be a different story. The skin of his injured arm boiled. The rain, for once, gave him respite as the water cooled him down.
The column finally relented. 9S overheard Amos' stomping. He ran towards the opening in the wall in pursuit. 9S readied himself. Just as Amos was about to turn the corner, 9S spawned a ball of magic that circled and flew into the building. Slamming into Amos, it scorched his legs. Amos tripped. He let out an agonizing howl and tumbled outside. He crashed into a shallow pool of water.
Frustrated snarling was drowned out beneath the rain. He stood out of the water just as 9S was about to strike again. Another ruby ring circled the boy's waist. He angled its path downward. The magical effect cut through concrete. Amos back flipped away, narrowly escaping evisceration.
The two stood at a distance. Neither party made another immediate attempt to kill the other. 9S panted heavily. His damaged arm dangled at his side, completely unusable. Amos was in no better shape. Salt poured from his tattered tunic. Glowing embers continuously burned his body. They gleamed in the dark.
During the bout of respite, 9S realized just how much fire had consumed the area. They were surrounded by a perimeter of magic that blazed higher than either of them could reach. Beneath the flames, 9S saw shadowy figures all stood around the fight like spectators. Apparitions watched Amos in particular. The figures were all distinct. Outlines of the tragically young and helplessly old gathered to see what would become of the Death Knight.
Even in death, the ghosts shuddered at the sight of the monster. 9S pointed to the growing crowd of specters. "Do you see them, Amos? I bet they're the ghosts of all those you and your friends tortured and killed! They've come to watch you die!"
Not a single glance was spared to them. Amos flashed his teeth with a crooked smile. He hoisted his sword upright, pointing it at his silver-haired adversary. 9S expected another frontal cone of fire that would need to be dodged or blocked with his sword's singular ability. When sparks erupted beneath his feet, however, he panicked.
Explosions erupted on the ground in a circular pattern, surrounding him. 9S lunged in the only direction he could go. Forward. Amos was left wide open, still focusing his sword as he cast the explosive spell. 9S vaulted through the air, blinking in and out of sight.
Skald's Song tore through Amos' body. The enchanted blade burned a path straight through his heart of salt. The Prince's last bodyguard froze in place. His core tightened.
Time itself seemed to screech to a halt. 9S stood before the hulking mass of chalk. He saw Amos' face embedded in the reflection of his elaborate blade. The boy looked up. Their eyes met for one final time. All the rage possessing 9S drained away. Replaced by well-earned guilt. Shaky words left his lips each in mournful whispers.
"You don't have to serve them anymore."
Amos let out a final, oddly relieved breath. He slumped over. His body relaxed. A soft hiss escaped him. A clawed hand fell upon 9S's shoulder. Those lengthy talons dug into him but never broke skin. Either Amos was making one last gambit to kill him and was too weak to carry it out, or simply trying to say goodbye. 9S could not be certain.
"I'm sorry," 9S breathed. Of course, no response was given.
Amos' body began to crumble away. Clumps of powder fell from his form dissolved in the rain. The weak hold he had on 9S faded as his fingers scattered into a cloud of particles.
The faintest hint of a smile crossed his colorless face. Sharpened teeth designed to help wage a cosmic war bared. Soon even that disappeared beneath the cloud of passing Maso.
Grain by grain Amos evaporated into nothingness.